


Suck, Bang, and Blow

by prodigalsanyo



Series: Cocktales [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: A flock of dead doves, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bad Decisions, Bondage, Consent Issues, Dark, Dark Gil Arroyo, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gil is not nice, Handcuffs, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, S&M, Sexual Roleplay, Verbal Humiliation, bad cop - Freeform, dead dove canapés, spring break me daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/pseuds/prodigalsanyo
Summary: Part 3 of 3 of the "Cocktales" series.  Bratty Malcolm catches beating from cop during spring break vacay. Extreme dubcon Broyo."Suck, Bang, and Blow" is not meant to be read stand alone. Fic is a dark continuation of "A Short Trip to Hell" (dubcon Brightly) and "Sex on the Beach" (Brimel).Do not read "Suck, Bang, and Blow" if you're not into Brightly, dark Gil or extremely dubious consent for Broyo pairing. Though Martin will not be in "Suck, Bang, and Blow", the Brightly incest elements are turned the hell up. Parent/child incest is a major topic. Gil displays bad BDSM etiquette. Gil makes use of humiliation, disrespectful speech, object penetration, and rough blowjob. Abuse of authority, power imbalance, bad cop feels are also potential triggers. In this AU, Malcolm does not see Gil as parental figure nor would Gil see Malcolm as his kid. Malcolm doesn't say "No" or "Stop", but Gil doesn't ask nicely either.-Suck Bang and Blow, Drink Recipe:  1 oz Jacquin's orange Flavored gin. 1 oz Rumple Minze. 2 oz Goldschlager. 1 oz Jagermeister. 3 oz Jose Cuervo Especial gold tequila. 1 oz Hpnotiq. 1 oz Smirnoff vodka. 1 oz Absolut citron.  Make it hard for daddy.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright/Martin Whitly
Series: Cocktales [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937263
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Suck, Bang, and Blow

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to KateSamantha. The Cocktales theme was her thing.
> 
> Many thanks to Caitie whose feedback influenced me to format this monstrous Brightly/Brimel/Broyo story into a series for readers' maximum enjoyment.

A police officer handcuffs Malcolm for public sex with U.S. soldiers partying at a Florida beach. Malcolm nestles on a beach towel in the backseat of a paddy wagon, a satisfied ache singing deep in his body from being passed around as a cum dump. The soldiers fucked him like they were going off to war (specifically to Kabul).

In the cruiser, Officer Gil shakes his head.

“What happened to you that you got this fucked up? Daddy not love you enough, city boy?”

“To be frank with you, sir, he loves me too much.” Malcolm smirks into the rearview mirror which is strung up with rosary beads and the Virgin Mary. He surmises that the policeman will have to swab the cruiser with bleach and holy water. Whether or not he keeps his legs together, Malcolm reeks of saltwater, sweat, and sex.

Despite Officer Gil’s sober personality, he informs Malcolm that he is not taking Malcolm to the drunk tank or placing Malcolm under formal arrest; perhaps because Officer Gil personally knows the Army guys who fucked Malcolm like he's their bitch. JT Tarmel and fellow unit members are actively posted at Blanding military base, which also serves as a facility for local police training. 

Officer Gil asks Malcolm for the address to the Whitly vacation timeshare. Otherwise, the policeman continues the drive in silence. Malcolm smiles to himself in satisfaction, intensely pleased with himself and how he landed a good joke. 

Instead of removing his cuffs on the porch, the policeman asks Malcolm, “What’s the pin to your lock?”

Malcolm tells him. Officer Gil punches in the access code and he opens the front door and escorts Malcolm inside. Malcolm stands, perplexed but patient while Officer Gil walks through the hallway and peeks in each room. Water rushes through the pipework when Officer Gil uses the bathroom. When the water cuts off, Malcolm hears the policeman speaking in the bathroom, likely calling home or precinct.

Malcolm fidgets, the urge to touch himself overwhelming him because he is naked in the living room, pre-come leaking from his cock, cum running thickly down his leg from his loose and sloppy hole. Malcolm licks his lips when Officer Gil approaches him, heightening the knowledge that he is restrained, quite helpless, and unable to call anyone with his phone in the policeman’s pocket. He notes that Officer Gil wears his sunglasses and assumes that the officer is on his way outside.

Officer Gil switches off his radio and removes his body cam. Then he shoves Malcolm onto the couch. He squeezes Malcolm’s thighs so hard that his thumbs will leave prints.

“Sir! Excuse me!” sputters Malcolm. His stunned outrage is doubly reflected in Officer Gil’s sunglasses.

“Cut it out, kid. Manners and shit went out the window the moment your daddy put his hands on you. He did fuck you, correct?” says Gil, his dry tone colder with the shades over his eyes.

“Yes, sir, Officer Gil. He fucked me.”

“Who fucked you?” questions Officer Gil in a knowing tone.

“My daddy,” answers Malcolm, smug. As though Officer Gil can’t touch him.

“You’re kidding me. The one that made you or is he your stepfather?”

“My real father. The one that made me. And I let him,” says Malcolm. “I let my daddy spoil me.”

“Jesus Christ, kid. These cuffs are staying on. You’re a little freak, you know that?”

“Yes, sir. Are you going to hurt me?” Malcolm spreads his legs and tips his head back as he shivers from more come pooling around his filth covered cheeks. “Will you fuck me, too?”

“Not a chance. That would ruin my uniform. I don’t want it dirty when I’m working the morning after,” says Officer Gil. He smacks Malcolm’s thigh. “You’re covered in the stuff. You know what you smell like?”

“Yes, officer. I smell like fuck, don’t I?” brags Malcolm. He licks his lips. “Mmmm, I can taste it.”

“Fuck. I’m going to use you the way I want to,” says Gil. He draws his nightstick.

“Fuck me,” says Malcolm, unphased as he stares down a cold hard shaft.

“No, I don’t think so,” says Gil. “Now eat it.” He rubs the blunted round end of the nightstick over Malcolm’s pout. It’s slightly damp and smells like the hand soap from the bathroom.

Malcolm fits his mouth to Gil’s beat stick and sucks it for what he’s worth (which is quite a bit, net and gross). His hips move when Officer Gil’s fingers stroke into his slick hole. He is wet and loose already and his mouth waters, further wetting the beat stick. His lips stretch more widely as the roof of his mouth presses the tip of the nightstick. His saliva drips down his chin. Officer Gil then pulls back the nightstick and Malcolm muffles his protest when it pops wetly from his gasping lips.

“I should arrest you,” says Officer Gil. “You fucked your own father, kid. You stay in those cuffs and think about what you did and how you did it.”

Before Malcolm can reply, Gil smacks the nightstick’s black shaft on the soft meat of his legs and prods his abdomen. Malcolm cries out first in surprise, then he wriggles from the sting thudding his skin over and over. Tears drip into his ears and mingle with his drool and the cum dried on his chin. He shakes all over when Officer Gil pauses. Malcolm’s eyes bulge in his head, the heels of his feet digging into the couch cushion as Officer Gil pushes the nightstick into him.

The pleasurable slide offsets the slight burning as he takes the nightstick up his ass like it’s a firm and black cock. Officer Gil slowly twists and rolls the nightstick and Malcolm’s greedy hole pulls it in. 

“Uncuff me, please,” begs Malcolm, chest heaving. “Let me touch myself.”

In answer, Gil pushes in the nightstick with short but quick bursts that have Malcolm whining and shaking his legs as he struggles with the cuffs. The steel bites his wrists because he wants to be free. The nightstick puffs out his hole before Gil spins and thrusts more aggressively.

“Oh God! Release me, sir.”

“No,” says Gil.

“No?” repeats Malcolm, his voice raw.

“Yeah. No. Whatchu going to do about it? Tell your daddy?” snaps Gil. He fucks Malcolm with the nightstick, harder. “And what would you tell your daddy? That the nice policeman took you home and didn’t stick his dick in you?”

Malcolm’s throat works as each thrust of the nightstick knocks the breath from him. He sucks in just enough air to make his blood rush painfully. He can’t talk back. His fingers tense as he’s forced open.

“You don’t think your daddy would thank me for letting you get off? Now ride it, city boy,” growls Officer Gil. His erection bulges in his creased uniform pants and he pins Malcolm into the couch until Malcolm can’t breathe, can’t stop crying, can’t fight Officer Gil’s weapon raping him.

Officer Gil stuffs Malcolm’s mouth with the same fingers he put inside Malcolm’s ass. Malcolm’s scream cuts off when he gags on the taste of ass and cum from different men, bitterness depressing his tongue. When the nightstick surges into his body, Malcolm feels himself tearing, the cum dripping from his ass like warm blood. He moans in his suffering, an animalistic rumble in his belly, as he breaks from the forceful arm of the law reaching deep and long.

Officer Gil releases him and clears the space, avoids the mess, when Malcolm wails and arches his neck, shattered by orgasm. His cock smacks flesh as cum beads a thick trail, feeling like a hot slow lick down low.

“Fucking look at this,” says Officer Gil. He withdraws the nightstick, chuckling when he feels the pull from Malcolm’s ass tightening up. Cum coats the black sheen like glue. He wipes it off on Malcolm’s legs, rolls it along Malcolm’s hairy navel. It feels hot and thick from Malcolm’s ass.

“Please,” says Malcolm.

Officer Gil sucks his teeth like he’s annoyed.

“Please what? Are you begging for my dick? I’m not fucking you. Look at how much nut came out of you. What would your daddy think?” says Officer Gil. 

“Please don’t tell my daddy. Can I suck your cock?” says Malcolm.

“You want me to choke you, kid?” says Officer Gil. He chews his lips as though considering and thinking through Malcolm’s offer. Then he buries the nightstick and circles it in his wrist, blowing Malcolm’s hole wider. 

Malcolm huffs a breath and shivers, all his words stolen away as his overstimulated nerves react to the lazy drag of the nightstick. He hears a wet sticky squelching that sounds like raw ground meat when it’s stirred and pounded. Malcolm tenses all over and then goes boneless from orgasm despite his emptied balls and tender dick.

“You look pretty done, kid.”

“Please. I can keep going,” begs Malcolm, too far gone to care about his numb arms and tingling fingers. His abs ache from his resistance, when he failed to stop himself from coming. He gets on his knees in a lovely spread.

“You know that you can suck me off all you like, but it’s on the record that you’re a daddy’s boy?” says Officer Gil. He loosens his belt and kicks his uniform pants below his thighs. Officer Gil’s red tartan boxers bunch around his lean and tan legs. “You’re getting face fucked and that’s it. I don’t owe you any favors, daddy’s boy. Think you been spoiled enough.”

“You’re right, Officer. I’m so spoiled that my own father gave me his cock,” says Malcolm. “No one can touch me.” Malcolm’s eyes gleam, shining a gorgeous color despite the red rimmed edges and the clumped lashes. 

“Oh yeah, kid? We’ll see about that,” challenges Officer Gil. The gold band on Officer Gil’s finger catches the light just like his father’s wedding ring. He spanks Malcolm’s ass and rubs his fingers when he feels the dried cum. Officer Gil pinches the bruised welts already showing up on Malcolm’s skin until Malcolm yelps.

Malcolm gargles from the policeman’s cock scraping the back of his mouth without fanfare. When Malcolm shimmies his hips, his ass squeezes around the nightstick. Malcolm clenches his ass cheeks around its hard thickness like he’s abusing his own hole while Officer Gil plugs his throat. When the policeman grips up his neck and chin and hauls him closer, Malcolm’s nose and lips smash into the dark coarse pube hairs that have a little gray in them, almost like his father’s.

With Martin filling his mind, Malcolm submits to another rewarding gush of heat and cream. 

Officer Gil’s hands thread Malcolm’s sweat slick hair. He eases Malcolm into the couch, his fingers following the arch of Malcolm’s spine to his crevice, simultaneously touching soft round muscle and the hardwood surface of the nightstick. Malcolm’s shoulder sinks into the upholstered armrest.

“Do you need more time with my little friend inside you?” asks Officer Gil.

Malcolm clears his throat. “Yes, sir. Give me a few minutes to process.”

Malcolm’s eyes well up with tears that drip onto the upholstery when he feels someone hold his restrained hands. He can’t see the older man’s face but he reads kindness in the thumbs and fingertips massaging his skin. Making him feel himself while bound.

“You know I believe you, kid. Whatever your father did to you happened.”

“I wanted it,” says Malcolm.

“Was it your idea?” says Officer Gil.

“It wasn't like he put a knife to my throat,” says Malcolm, more defensively.

“Calm down, kid. Or do you need me to remove the stick up your ass?” replies Officer Gil.

“It would be easier if you take off the cuffs so I can pull it out myself. And may I have my beach towel, please?” requests Malcolm. Officer Gil obliges him and frees up Malcolm’s arms. 

Malcolm grimaces when he holds the nightstick. He shuts his legs and rolls onto his side to minimize the overflow. Officer Gil’s shoes clump on the floor as he helps Malcolm settle onto the beach towel.

“Is this baton made of actual wood?” asks Malcolm. “It resembles a billy club. Is this standard for your city? You don’t use retractable steel?”

“Yes, it’s hickory. I painted it to draw less attention,” answers Officer Gil. “And no, this is not standard. I carry it when the kids are in town.”

“You painted it for the contrast against skin. And cum,” says Malcolm. He sprawls onto his back and bends one leg up. His rim is blown so wide that anyone can see the slight shine from loads of cum.

“That is truly beautiful. You’ve been a busy, busy boy,” compliments Officer Gil. He pulls candy from his pockets, the wrapper crinkling before he sucks cool blue mint. “You want some candy, kid? I’m offering because that’s what my mama taught me. But something tells me you don’t do chasers after cum shots.”

“I shouldn’t take candy from strangers,” says Malcolm.

“But you’ll take dick from anybody.” Officer Gil calls him out.

“Do you mete out punishment indiscriminately to every co-ed you pick up?” retorts Malcolm.

“No. I’m picky, or so I’m told. My wife may be right about me,” says Officer Gil. “I would be sorry about stepping in and inserting myself. But you’re clear headed. Not drunk or high. You still let yourself go.”

“I had a couple drinks to relax,” says Malcolm. “Did you not see how big those soldiers were?”

“Everyone saw,” says Officer Gil flatly. “From how you talked to me, it told me a lot about you and what you like. You got my attention, kid. Why did you say what you said?”

“Can you take off the shades, please? Sir?” requests Malcolm.

Officer Gil folds the hinges of his sunglasses and hooks the earpiece over the front of his spotless uniform. Malcolm gazes into brown eyes with short dark lashes lining the tilted corners. From first glance, he assumed that Officer Gil was Hispanic, but now Malcolm considers Native American or a tribe indigenous to central latin countries. Malcolm finds the policeman’s cheekbones and the longer thin nose and the goatee to be overall attractive.

“It’s because of your uniform. The fact that you are a cop, that you didn’t know me, and you could hurt me,” says Malcolm. He strokes his legs, touches his hips, and caresses his chest. “I’m glad you did, Officer. How you mistreated me felt so good. More than just dick. I love it.”

“Call me Gil.” The policeman cups his hand around the back of Malcolm’s neck. Their first kiss is sweet from hard candy with the addicting taste of cum which he drank from Gil’s cock. Malcolm’s lips part in surprise when Gil fingers the rim of his hole. Malcolm gets hard again from the play of their tongues and the tender reminder of incredible amounts of sex pulsing inside him.

“You’re shameless, Malcolm. It’s amazing,” says Gil. “How long are you here for?”

“A little under thirty six hours before my flight,” says Malcolm. “Then it’s back to school for me.”

“God, I want to keep messing with you,” says Gil. His thumbs stroke circles around Malcolm’s hairy nipples before pinching them. Gil tightens his grip like a vice and pain radiates into Malcolm’s deeper muscles. Malcolm inhales deeply, moving into the pain, enduring until his ass squeezes around nothing. The nightstick is hard on his thigh. Malcolm gets in a couple inches of the hardwood into himself when Gil turns his wrists and twists his nipples harder.

When Malcolm’s legs spasm, making him fall open, Gil takes hold of the nightstick and jerks it and moves the tip in and out, angling it until Malcolm grabs his arm. Malcolm’s head tilts back like he’s forced. His hips buck once more, yelping each time Gil hits his p spot. Gil looks at him without any hatred or judgment of what Malcolm is or what he allowed his father to do to him. All that Malcolm can do is clutch at Gil’s arm, his whole body trembling, before Gil breaks him again, making him come without touch, pinned down by Gil’s gentle eyes.

Gil reclaims the nightstick and offers Malcolm back his phone. Malcolm unlocks his phone and makes another request. “Can you take my picture, sir? Below my neck, please.”

“Whatever you want, kid. Any chance you want my number?” says Gil. The camera flashes a few times as Gil takes body shots and close ups where Malcolm is wonderfully gaped.

“Please. Put it in,” says Malcolm. He smiles bashfully. “To clarify, yes, I want to have your number.”

“Alright. It’s saved under your contacts. Look for my name,” says Gil. Gil raises Malcolm’s phone overhead when Malcolm reaches for it. “What are you going to do with your pretty pictures?”

“I’m going to import them to my password protected hard drive and delete them off my phone and my iCloud account,” says Malcolm.

“And then?” questions Gil.

“I’m going to make myself come looking at them, of course,” says Malcolm. 

“You’re not going to share them?” asks Gil.

Malcolm considers Gil’s curious expression with more thoughtfulness. “I’ll show them to my father when I’m home for the summer.”

“Thought so,” says Gil. He returns Malcolm’s phone then. “Don’t text me. I want you to call.”

“Oh, you’re old fashioned,” says Malcolm, laughing.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to talk. If it goes nowhere, no harm done, city boy. But if we keep in touch, maybe I can call you when me and my wife are up in New York visiting friends,” says Gil. “We usually stay in a hotel.”

“Okay, Gil. We’ll talk,” says Malcolm. His lips curl between his teeth. “On one condition.”

“Which is what?” asks Gil, raising his brows. The brow hairs are totally black. Hints of his age appear in the silver strands just beginning to crop up around his temple.

“Pack the beat stick. And your cuffs, pretty please,” says Malcolm.

“Alright. You bring yourself, as is,” replies Gil, very clearly turned on when he says Malcolm’s name.

"Now how about you call up Private Tarmel?" suggests Gil.

"I already texted JT. They are stopping for food but he'll be around," says Malcolm.

"Damn, you're fast."

Malcolm returns Gil’s smile. He’s already picturing himself cuffed in Gil and his wife’s hotel bed, a plug between his cheeks, after a few stolen hours with Martin. Malcolm wants his father to fill him before he goes out into the world to receive its hard knocks.

He comes out of Spring Break a changed young man who is ravenous for a summer both dark and bright.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of 3 of the "Cocktales" series is titled "A Short Trip to Hell." For spring break, Malcolm and college friends head to Orlando; where Doctor Whitly will attend a conference. Malcolm saves dumbass pal Vijay from getting serial killed, at a cost. Dubcon Brightly.
> 
> Part 2 of 3 of the "Cocktales" series is titled "Sex on the Beach." Malcolm encounters soldiers on three days leave. Wildly consensual Brimel. "Sex on the Beach" may be read as stand alone fic or as a continuation of "A Short Trip to Hell." Please note that Martin does not appear in "Sex on the Beach" and the Brightly incest elements are vague/implied.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> -
> 
> Muse: but where's watkins?
> 
> Me: johnnie boy took his grandma to disney world
> 
> Muse: *gasp* ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ magic kingdom


End file.
